A Broken Dream
by Rowena of Naxen
Summary: Did Jonathan really need to visit and ruin all of George's dreams? George really wishes he hadn't. // Set before Jonathan goes to visit Alanna in WWRLaM. Written for Men Of Tortall's March challenge. Prompt: "Dream"


**Here is my response to the March 2010 JoGeNuDoNaRo challenge. The prompt is "Dream". For more entries or info on entering the challenge yourself, visit the Men of Tortall forum. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the setting, Tammy does! I'm just messing around with them.**

A Broken Dream

_She was once more the vision he had only seen once, with her neck and shoulders exposed in a gorgeous silken dress. Her lavender eyes were focused directly on him, her mouth formed a small smile. She spoke his name and he allowed a shiver to run down his spine. In a second she was in his arms, softness and warmth, and he was enjoying the sweet taste of her mouth once more._

_He laid her down, he didn't know what on, he didn't know how it had gotten there, but it was cloud soft and Alanna was reaching toward him, and it was every wish he'd ever had come true._

_He rolled her underneath him, relishing the feeling of flesh on flesh, her hands in his hair and his hands on her waist._

"_George…" she breathed._

"_Oh gods, Alanna," he moaned, pulling her even closer._

"_George—only you, George, only you…"_

"George!"

"Go 'way", he muttered.

"Majesty, wake up!"

The King of the Thieves opened a hazel eye, observing his second-in-command blearily.

"Marek, I'll have y' know you just interrupted a most pleasant dream," George informed him, not even trying. "And what are you doin' in my room anyway?"

"I let 'im in, Majesty," Rispah told him from the doorway. "There's a visitor here t' see you."

"Can't it wait?" George groaned, looking at the placement of the sun through his window. "I've only been asleep two hours!"

"Three, actually, and he says it's mighty important, can't wait." Rispah laughed from the doorway.

"Johnny said t' wake you right away, as he's ridin' this afternoon and needed to speak with you." Marek explained.

"Fine," George sighed, shooing them. "Tell 'im to hold 'is horses, I'll be down in a minute."

As he pulled on his clothes and splashed some water on his face, George reflected that Prince Jonathan was possibly the last person he wanted to see at that time. He knew Jonathan was riding to the desert to see Alanna, a luxury George himself could not afford, as much as he would like to. Lately every time he had seen Jonathan the younger man had felt the need to rub his love affair with Alanna in George's face. At least Alanna had the decency to be discreet, but her lover and former knight-master didn't seem to worry about their friend's feelings, though he couldn't possibly be in denial about how George felt about Alanna.

Denial-George had tried denial, once. He had denied that Alanna preferred Jonathan to him, denied that the two were lovers, until he simply couldn't deny it anymore. It hurt less to admit defeat. It would have hurt even less to stop hoping.

He took a deep breath as he pulled on his boots and started down the stairs. He didn't want to take his anger out on Jonathan out of respect for the friendship they had once had, the friendship Jonathan's actions had jeopardized. He knew thinking so wasn't justified but did it anyway. The King of the Thieves shouldn't have to justify his actions to anyone, not even a Conté.

He forced his face into something resembling a smile as he walked downstairs to greet the prince. Jonathan nodded in his direction, and George gestured to Solom for drinks as he walked to the chair by the fire he always occupied when he was in the main room of the Dove. Jonathan picked up his ale and followed.

"What did y' want to talk about?" George asked after the drinks had been delivered and he was sure no one was eavesdropping. "Wakin' me up in the mornin' after only two hours o' sleep."

"I'm sorry, George, but I wanted to say goodbye, and I'm needed back home in an hour." Jonathan purposely didn't say that home was the castle, since all the regulars at the Dove knew him only as Johnny. "Myles wants to set out tonight so we don't have to ride in the sun."

"Where are y' goin'?" George asked, although they both knew that Jonathan was riding to see Alanna.

"To the desert." The prince gave a wry smile. "I thought I'd try and convince Alanna to give up life as a nomad and rejoin us in Corus."

George forced a chuckle. "Might be difficult-lass always had a mind of 'er own."

Jonathan laughed too. "I think I'll be able to convince her."

The words fell heavy on George's ears, and they sat in an uncomfortable silence for a long moment, interrupted only by Solom refilling their drinks.

"What do you—?"

"Don't you think—?"

They both looked down sheepishly. "What were you going to say?" Jonathan asked.

"No, you go." George said. He knew what was coming and there was no use putting off hearing it.

Jonathan didn't even look uncomfortable as he looked George straight in the eye. "Don't you think Alanna will make a good queen?"

George fought back the curse that threatened to escape him and studied the drops of perspiration on his ale mug. "That's a bit controversial, don't you think?"

Jonathan ignored that. "I think she will."

"I don't think she'd even want to be queen," George said mildly.

"What makes you think you know her better than I do?" Jonathan asked. George froze at the implication. He wanted to say a hundred things: that Alanna trusted him better, that he had known she was a girl longer than the prince had, that Jonathan was a fool who never thought of anyone else, only what he wanted.

He said none of them, but instead he focused his eyes on Jonathan's smug face and spoke as smoothly as he was able. "You should probably go now, Jon. Myles'll be waiting, and I'm sure you've got a lot t' do t' get ready for the journey."

Jonathan seemed to realize he was being dismissed, and for once he didn't argue—he was in a different court, the Court of the Rogue, and here it was George's will, not Jonathan's or his father's, that the people would rush to obey. He pushed his drink away and rose slowly, the motley assortment of thieves and flower girls parting around him as he made his way to the door. George rose too, as the prince opened the door and left. His Court, once a source of comfort, now looked at him with worried, pitying eyes, as George eyed the door that slammed behind the man he had once called friend. Once he would have said that a woman shouldn't get between them, but this wasn't just Alanna's fault, it was Jonathan's too. And he could never be mad at Alanna.

_Thump! Thud! Smack!_

_SLAM!_

The three daggers had landed in the door before it was even fully closed, knocking it closed with amazing force, the force with which they had been thrown. All eyes in the Dove were on their King, trying to figure out when he had thrown the daggers, where he had even gotten them from.

George's eyes were burning with hate and tears unshed, and he had a sudden irrational longing to return to Alanna's arms, where he had been in his dreams, before he was woken up and made to face what was really going to happen and had to admit that all the dreams of Alanna as _his_ wife, Alanna's belly round with _his_ child, were going to be replaced by the stark reality of Alanna as Jonathan's. She would be queen, and bear the heir to the Tortallan throne. George would be nothing more to her than a friend and subject.

If he had been thinking clearly, he would have corrected himself the way he tried to correct Jonathan, told himself that Alanna would _never_ want to be queen. But Jonathan's overconfident words were still thundering in his ears, and he could think of nothing else but the way his dreams were breaking apart, and how much he wished they weren't.

"I'm goin' back to bed," he said stiffly. "And this time, you wake me for _no _one."

**Ta-da! Once again, this is for Men of Tortall's March challenge, prompt: "Dream". I highly recommend you hop over to the forum!**

**I'm sorry if Jon seems sort of like a jerk—I do like him, I just prefer George. And also, remember George is upset and sort of mad at him. I apologize for any mistakes made in the way George, Marek and Rispah talk—I'm not so great with Lower City cant. **

**A review would be much appreciated :) -Rowena**


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